The Outlaw Torn
by Koneko Cain
Summary: Mokuba turns up with a job for Yami Bakura. Kidnap Seto Kaiba for a month. Of course, it's for his own good, it's just a shame Bakura violently hates him.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: (for entire fic) I do not claim to own any of the characters portrayed in this fic and am making no money from it.

Warnings: Blood, yaoi, angst... I think this might end up a lot like Poor Twisted Me, although I might tone down the comedy a little. Mokuba is 15 in this, by the way, and no matter how the first chapter may make it seem, it isn't a Bakura/Mokuba fic. It might not even end up as a Seto/Bakura fic...

Notes: For Hangyul, I hope you like it.

The Outlaw Torn

Bakura POV

Why is it that someone always rings the doorbell when you're in the shower? Luckily for me, Ryou gets it because I wasn't about to go out there dripping wet, looking like a drowned rat and have it turn out to be the Pharaoh here for a battle. Not that I wouldn't jump at the chance to kick his royal arse, I'd just rather do it in more than a towel.

I finish my shower and shake the water out of my insane hair, tying one of the bright red towels I had Ryou buy around my waist before heading into my room. Once there I set about getting dressed, only to notice a reflection in the full length mirror on the wall halfway through. Ra, those tomb robber instincts choose the most stupid moments to fail me, I'm glad I don't believe in karma.

"Ryou told me to wait for you in here..." Mokuba says, and I hope I traumatized the little bastard. Actually, he's looking at me like I'm a piece of meat now, which is slightly unnerving coming from a fifteen year old. Being fucking weird must run in his family or something.

"Tell me what you want before I get bored and kill you." I growl, narrowing my eyes at him threateningly. I want to see how frightened of me he is.

"I want to pay you to do a job for me." He tells me, slightly nervous but still managing to stare at my bare chest – I never got to button up my shirt. I think I'll leave it, I'm enjoying the attention.

"Do you, now? And what sort of job might this be?" I ask, my interest peaked. What would a rich brat want with me? What is it I can do that he can't trust one of the do-gooders to take care of? Theft and murder spring to mind, although I can't see Mokuba hiring me to kill someone. Then again, you never can tell. Being bought up by a sadistic bitch like Seto Kaiba probably caused all sorts of subtle psychological damage.

"It's something I couldn't ask anyone else to do for me. It's illegal, reckless and dangerous – but I promise it'll pay well." The kid grins, grey eyes still glancing down at my chest and throat every few moments. He seems to like the silver chains I wear at my wrists, ankles and throat. With the four thick, silver rings through my left ear Ryou says I look like a gypsy. He never got to see how much gold I used to wear back in the desert, although my preferences have changed to silver over the years. Gold is expensive and I like that, but there's something about the shine of silver that draws me to it like a magpie. I notice that Mokuba has an earring, although it takes a sharp eye to catch the glint of it beneath his dark hair. I wonder if his brother knows about it? What a rebel this child is turning out to be, acquainting himself with the king of thieves behind his brother's back. I can't imagine Kaiba sending his vulnerable little brother here alone to me, after all.

"I like the sound of this job so far, being that you have not told me any of the details. Perhaps you'd like to do that now...?" I suggest with a hint of sarcasm in my voice, padding across the soft carpet of my trinket-cluttered room towards him. The nervous look in his eyes grows at having me so close, but he continues with his proposal anyway. Admirable that he does not back away, I wonder how far I can take this?

"You know that Kaibacorp used to be a company that manufactured weapons, right?" He asks, as I circle him like a wolf.

"Under the guidance of the evil stepfather, yes. Continue." I say, stopping in my circling when I am behind him and taking a step closer until I am very, very close. Still he does not shy away, and I am impressed. Perhaps he is worth working for. We are in a dimly lit room and he has a murderer behind him, breathing against the back of his neck – yet he does not flinch. What horrors must the Kaiba mansion have held growing up for this one?

"Well," Mokuba says in a slightly breathless voice, "he built a bomb shelter in the desert – he thought he could market it to rich idiots during the cold war. He actually built three, but the one in the Sahara was the one he used as a show home." The boy explains, shivering at the feeling of my fingertips brushing the back of his neck. It makes me wonder how often he is _touched_. His brother avoids human contact if he can help it, and who else is there? I trail my long fingers down the back of his neck again, his long hair brushing my hand. He looks a lot like I would have, had I grown up without the many traumas I faced. His mention of the desert is interesting and I lean against his back, whispering 'continue' again in his ear in a low voice. He is taller than me, although the body I have is twenty years old – five years older than him. Genetics are a mystery to me, like many of the things in this place. I thought the Japanese were traditionally shorter, it only goes to show that my theory on the Kaiba family being freaks holds some merit.

"The shelter in the Sahara is still standing and in full working order, it's completely self-sufficient on the inside. I'm pretty sure Seto has forgotten it exists – he went on a spree of destroying anything Gozaburo built, but that shelter survived. It was probably less hassle to just leave it there." Mokuba guesses, standing still with his arms by his sides, my hand snaking around his waist. He gives a soft gasp as I pull him back against me but does not fight – a wise decision. He knows the danger he is in – what I could do to him if I chose to. He knew the risks when he sought me out and entered this room alone, and I am taking a certain sadistic pleasure in frightening him.

"I fail to see where I am needed," I purr, one hand on his stomach and the other trailing up his chest, a dark chuckle leaving my lips as I feel him hold his breath. "Tell me what it is you want me to do." I hiss against the skin at the side of his throat, making him let the breath he was holding out shakily.

"I... I want you to kidnap my brother." He says, finally getting to the damned point. I cannot help but laugh, running my tongue over the pretty skin of his shoulder and up to his neck. That makes him squeeze his eyes closed, his breath picking up. Fifteen years old and he has never been touched like this. I wonder if it is by his choice or his brother's?

"Now why would I want to do that?" I ask, scraping my sharp teeth against his skin. I think I'll leave my mark on him, give him something to hide from his big brother. Obviously he is not as tamed by that priest as I had assumed, from his request. How _interesting._

"He's working himself to death and nothing I say will get him to take a break, so I'm going to force him. He'll forgive me eventually." The child predicts, the _'I hope'_ going unspoken but hanging heavily in the air. "If I drug his coffee to get him there, you can keep him in the shelter for a month. Without his laptop he'll have nothing to do except rest up and he'll stop walking around like a zombie. He'll be mad, but it's for his own good."

I consider this for a few moments, feeling the body in my hold trembling slightly against my bare chest.

"Why ask _me_ to do this?" I finally ask, since I am fairly certain the Pharaoh would jump at the chance to be alone with the fucking priest for a month. Even imagining the opportunities for pathetic romance they'd undoubtedly find makes me sick. What a perfect little love story they might make. I can think of many things I would rather do than spend a month with either of them. Being burned alive is one.

"I need someone he can't hurt." Mokuba tells me, jumping in my grip when I sink my teeth into the side of his neck – not hard enough to break the skin but enough that there will be marks. He lets me do as I please, he is a clever child.

"You seem to be under the illusion that I am impervious to harm." I mention, licking the sore spot on his throat and feeling him relax slightly against me, his eyes sliding closed again and a soft breath leaving his lips. He likes it when I kiss his throat, he makes such pretty sounds.

"You heal," he breathes, one of his hands holding mine at his waist as he enjoys what I am doing to him. If only his big brother could see.

"That does not mean pain ceases to hurt me." I point out with a smirk against his skin. "But I am willing to overlook it where large amounts of money are involved." Pain does not frighten me, we have been acquainted too well for too long. I see it as an inevitability in anything. It can even be enjoyable, done right.

"I couldn't think of anyone else who had half a chance of coping with him for a month that would actually be willing to do it." Mokuba says honestly, obviously not wanting to use someone who would drive his poor brother insane. Pegasus springs to mind. Clearly he does not realize how much I despise Seto Kaiba.

"Both Marik and the Pharaoh heal as well as I do, although locking Marik in an enclosed space with a mortal for a month would not be the best of ideas. Still, I am sure Pharaoh would enjoy it." I say in a silken voice, still lavishing attention on his throat because I like having him trying not to squirm in my grip.

"Yami's a great guy and everything, but he'd want to bring all his friends in on the plan, and then the whole thing would end up as some huge, emotional intervention. That just isn't how Seto works, he'd probably murder them all." The boy says as confidently as he can manage with a three thousand year old thief's lips against his neck. I imagine it must be quite nerve-wracking.

"So, I seemed the logical choice. What makes you think I'd give him back after the month is over – in one piece or at all?" I ask in an amused voice, as though I would actually want to keep the priest for longer than I must. I will not mention to Mokuba that I would quite happily murder his brother.

"The shelter is owned by Kaibacorp, you won't be able to leave without me knowing. It's in the middle of the desert, you'd have nowhere to go." He reasons, his breath decidedly quicker than when he first began his proposal. A little molestation is such a wonderful way to put someone off their stride, especially when they're attempting to talk business.

"What gives you the impression that I would have difficulty surviving in a desert?" I laugh darkly, liking the thought of seeing Egypt again now that the opportunity has been placed before me. I will not have to see what the tourists of this modern world have done to my country – I will be in the middle of the deep desert where there is nothing but lonely sand. It sounds tempting, other than having to bear Seto Kaiba for thirty days. I can always kill him if things become too unbearable, I suppose.

"You might not have trouble, but Seto would – you'd need him alive. How far could you get, having to support both of you? As soon as you leave the compound I can have people scouring the area with dogs, jeeps, helicopters... could you get through all that to the nearest settlement? It's over seventy miles away." Mokuba points out, attempting to pull himself together. I nip at the soft skin of his throat once more and it was an admirable effort but he quickly gives in, leaning against me again. Stealing isn't all I'm good at.

"You underestimate me." I smirk, knowing full well that I'm right. If I wanted to I could easily get past all his little security lackeys – not without a little bloodshed, perhaps, but these things are inevitable. I can charm my way into most anything if I feel the need, I know full well how most men and women see me. Pretty, harmless, eccentric. They have no idea. What was the phrase Malik used to describe me...? 'Supremely fuckable'. That was it. It has its uses when it comes to getting away with things; this body may not be as physically strong or tall as my old one but that, too, has its advantages. I can still look decidedly threatening when I want to, though.

"Would you really hurt Seto? He's one of the few people you've never directly threatened, I thought maybe you had some kind of feelings for him." Mokuba guesses. Poor, disillusioned boy. I dither for a moment over whether to murder him outright or laugh – in the end I choose the latter. The truth is I've never thought up a sufficiently horrific way to kill Seto Kaiba, and the depths of my imagination when it comes to such things is truly staggering. Rest assured, when I do come up with a fittingly painful, humiliating and fucking _evil_ way to murder that bastard there will be no hesitation on my part.

"Very astute, I'm sure." I smirk, still laughing at the sheer absurdity of what he said. "The only feeling I hold for your brother is hatred, but yet again it can be overlooked where money is concerned." Never let it be said that I don't have my priorities straight.

"Hatred? Why?" The boy asks, and it surprises me that he isn't used to people hating his brother yet. Seto isn't exactly known for making friends easily. He's more of a backstabbing corporate pirate, not too much different from how he used to be three thousand years ago.

"Let's just say your brother isn't one of my favourite people. Still, watching him suffer imprisonment for a month at the hands of his own brother sounds appealing. I will not harm him, but do not expect me to be civil to him either." I warn, imagining how livid Seto will be when he wakes up to find that he has been kidnapped by his helpless little brother and the sociopath he hired. The thought brings a smile to my lips, still playing gently against Mokuba's throat. It only occurs to me to wonder so late in the proceedings if he is even attracted to men. He isn't openly struggling, although that could be because he knows what will happen to him if he does. Well, I am too old to have a preference over men or women, so it doesn't matter to me. From his soft, hitched breathing he seems to be enjoying what I'm doing to him anyway, not that I would particularly care if he wasn't.

"Then you'll do it?" Mokuba asks, stumbling forward a little as I release my hold on him. He turns around to face me, looking hopeful - as though that will sway me in any way.

"There is nothing of any great importance that I should be doing for the next month. At least this way I will not be bored. When am I to start?" I demand, turning with a jingle of silver jewellery to run my fingers through my unruly hair in front of the mirror. There is nothing that can be done for hair with such a mind of its own. I used to think it made me look too feminine – I even cut it off once. It grew back within an hour and I have since come to prefer it long, regardless of the fact that it would be dangerous in battle.

"Tomorrow morning - I'll have a car pick you up. You'll be taken to the compound, Seto will already be there, I'll drug his morning coffee, he shouldn't wake up until you're both safely locked in. There'll be one emergency key, I'll give it to you tomorrow. Hide it somewhere in the compound and make sure Seto doesn't find out where it is." The child explains to me, his confidence returning now that he is no longer being touched. I can see the light flush on his cheeks in the mirror – he is still trying to shake the feeling of my lips at his throat while he talks business. Clearly he has thought this plan through and it is no spur-of-the-moment idea, I am pleased. I will let him decide how much to pay me and then demand twice that, I think. He can afford it, that I am certain of. I watch in the mirror as he turns to leave, pausing in the doorway to my room.

"Pack for summer, it's temperature controlled in the compound but it still gets a little warm. Everything else you'll need is already there." He advises, touching the red mark at his throat absently. I turn to face him, peeling off my shirt – which is damp from my hair - simply to see the effect it has on him. His eyes fix on my chest again and his blush returns, even more so when he notices the wicked smile on my lips.

"Then I will be ready in the morning." I purr, laughing darkly to myself as he murmurs his thanks and exits. I hear him mumble something to Ryou on the way out, and then I am alone with nothing but my reflection in the mirror. For a long moment I stare into my own garnet eyes, remembering the sight of crimson blood staining golden sand, and my jaw clenches in annoyance. Black hatred coils within my soul but I crush it down, narrowing my eyes at the image of myself in the mirror. Forcing myself to think of the money and what I could do with it I turn away, grab a bag from the floor next to the wardrobe and begin packing. A few minutes of imagining all the jewels I could buy lightens my mood and within half an hour I am smirking again. I will take this job regardless of the fact that I despise Seto Kaiba.

Regardless of the fact that he is the man who killed me.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: There will not be a relationship, as such. There probably will be sex, though, because what else is there to do all day? Not too much detail, though. This is for Dar, because everything is her fault and she draws these amazing pictures that make me want to do some damn work! Also for Hangyul - don't work too hard! Laura - who should _definitely _get a gecko, Shiro Ryuu - Nice to hear from you again! And Frankensnakie, my pet snake, who has poked his head out of my sleeve and is flicking his tongue out at the screen. Hopefully in approval.

The Outlaw Torn – Chapter 2

Traveling, traveling. This is how I spend today. From the Kaiba's limousine to a two-part plane flight to yet another car and then a helicopter – of all things – out into the scorching desert. The plane ride was interesting, I've only ever seen the clouds from above once before and that was through Ryou's eyes, somewhat absently whilst I brooded over my impending attack on the Pharaoh. Now, seeing the heavens with my own eyes, I'm not surprised by the glaring lack of deities. It makes me wonder if the faith of the masses has dwindled since the advent of the aircraft. Breaking through the heavens and finding no gods or palaces of cloud must have been quite a reality check, although not for me. I already know my god is dead.

The helicopter was loud at first but the journey is only half an hour and I'm quickly distracted by the views of my homeland stretching out before me. I'd expected the cities to be crowded, built-up and modern, but it still struck me how much Egypt has changed. It's hard to prepare oneself for the shock of seeing their homeland transformed by the passing of time. And so much time, at that.

Still, the cities never were my true home. I was always a creature of the desert, and as we fly out away from the crowds of haphazard buildings I lean back in my seat, ignoring the whirring blades of the helicopter as I stare out over the landscape. The signs of so-called _civilization_ thin out and the barren rocks give way to an ocean of sand, stretching out in golden waves as far as I can see. _This_ was my home. It has barely changed in millennia, and up until this moment I hadn't realised how much I missed this wasteland.

XxXxX

The compound turns out to be a huge, black dome in the middle of the Sahara. I can see it from the helicopter as we fly in closer, the oily black surface seeming to absorb the sunlight. Anything that looks like a great, dark blood blister on the golden landscape and sucks in the brightness of Ra as this thing does is all right, from my point of view. It looks _evil_, and that appeals to me.

Mokuba is here in the helicopter with me, pointing out the dome as though I could fail to notice something that fucking _huge and right in front of me._ Luckily for him, he makes himself useful by explaining some of the workings of this shelter. The elder brother is already inside, from what he tells me. The dome itself is made from some kind of tempered plastic that only looks black from the outside, like a two-way mirror. The heat and light absorbed by the dome powers the air coolers and electronics on the inside – I take all this information in carefully and store it, in case I should ever need to know any of this. The inside of the dome sounds interesting. According to the boy, the inside is a self-sufficient environment able to support up to five people comfortable for years at a time. It was based on the American Bio-Dome project - although much improved by Gozaburo Kaiba's technology – to be marketed as a long-term bomb shelter. The things rich people insist upon frittering away their money on. A cave worked well enough for me, but I suppose a few luxuries will not go amiss. I expect they'll make my stay with the priest marginally more bearable.

Mokuba continues to bombard me with riveting facts about the composition of this structure, but I quickly tire of caring about this. I want to get inside it and see with my own eyes. For now, I endure the rest of this tedious journey by watching the boy's lips move. He has such full lips, I imagine how _nice_ they much taste. He notices me staring and trails off, flushing slightly as a few choice memories rise to the forefront of his mind.

"Keep talking, child." I purr, watching with a smirk as he stammers and begins again, going into great detail on the facilities available inside his little shelter. I follow the movement of his lips again for a while, before crawling across the long seat to where he is. He is tied down by his seatbelt, unlike me. I would not wear it, this flying monstrosity could crash straight into concrete and it would not kill me. He wisely keeps talking, clearly he has learnt from our first encounter.

Such a clever child.

I lean over while he sits still and lick a path up his throat, my lips curved in a smile.

"What interesting toys you have." I comment in a hot breath against his skin, moving up like a cat to run the tip of my tongue around the delicate shell of his ear, revelling in the shiver that courses through him. He is the only toy that holds my attention at this moment.

"It's hardly a toy, it's a state-of-the-art-" He begins, before I press a finger to his lips to silence him. I'm amused by this show of fire, but it isn't what I want right now. Tracing the contours of his lips with my fingertip, I move to straddle his lap. He's still taller than me, but I know very well that height isn't everything. It's very obvious who's in charge here.

"Kiss me." I demand, removing my curious fingers and replacing them with my lips. He lets me do as I please yet again, and I pillage his mouth like the thief I am. It leaves him gasping for air and I draw back, watching with interest as he catches his breath and admiring the flush of his skin. I store it away in my memory, fully intending to relate this moment in the utmost detail to Seto Kaiba when the desire to piss him off strikes me.

"We-we're here." He tells me, eyes wider than usual. He has such pretty, pretty eyes. Not as pretty as mine, but so few are. I release him and sit back in my seat, closing my eyes as the helicopter lands. I listen to my own heartbeat slow down from the rush of lust, enjoying the last electric tingles in my blood. I want to let my mind run free, to spend the next few minutes enjoying my fantasies of pressing the boy down against the seats and clawing my long nails viciously down his sides. I want to make him arch and twist and writhe beneath me, I want to show him that there is a _very_ thin line between pain and pleasure and I know just how and when to break it. However, before I can wonder why I'm even holding back, I feel the jolt of the helicopter setting down and we have arrived.

No matter, I'm sure it won't be hard to catch him again before he leaves me here with his brother, the man with blood of ice. I fully intend to test that theory, as well.

"It can withstand a nuclear blast-" Mokuba is saying to me as I exit the aircraft, which has landed near the dome. I wonder if they've ever actually tested that, not that I care. Nuke me. I _won't die._

Following the boy over the rocky ground – the dunes of golden sand rising like waves in the distance and no other signs of civilization to be seen on any horizon – I relish in the heat rising up through the soles of my shoes from the ground. For a brief instant I stand there, not looking at the compound but away from it, out into the endless gold of the desert. It feels strange standing here without a headdress or my cloak. The desert is as beautiful as I remember, scorching and barren. A faint whisper of Kul Elna reaches me, the ghosts of my people welcoming me back home. It pulls me slightly to the south, deeper into the desert, perhaps three days' journey on foot away from this dome. To be so close feels odd, and for a moment I am almost sentimental. How sad, that now it will be nothing but a cavern and a scattering of ruins buried beneath the shifting sands. I could use the Ring, dig them up, clear the sand.

How tempting...

"Are you coming inside?" Mokuba interrupts my thoughts and I turn back to the compound, stalking through the perimeter fence and right up to the outside of the dome. I touch it and it burns my hand, but I barely notice. The coating looks like oil, a myriad of swirling colours on a base of darkness, with a slick look to it. The door inside looks like an airlock from some science fiction film, which I suppose isn't far from the truth. I let Mokuba lead me inside, into a small chamber. The pilot from the helicopter brings my bag, but I pay him no further attention as the small chamber opens and we are finally inside.

I must admit, I am impressed.

The first thing I feel is the sudden change in temperature – the scorching heat of the desert is replaced by much more temperate climates. Before me is a forest, which is an odd thing to see in the Sahara. The trees are old and must have been bought here, not grown here. The grass is lush and green, the whole place having more of an air of rural countryside in England than a bubble in the deep desert. I turn from the trees and look to my side, at the dome. As Mokuba had told me, I can see right through the dome to the sand and rock outside, darkened only slightly by the plastic separating us. It pleases me that I will be able to see it whenever I wish.

Following the child – barely listening to his tour in favour of watching him move – I am led along a path through what appears to be a ring of forest around all edges of the dome. There are streams which keep the trees and grass alive, all leading back to one large lake, from what he tell me. The streams end at a smaller pool, which we walk past. The waterfall leading into the pool is sculptured, but still attractive. It looks like a good place to bathe.

The path leads us to the middle of the dome, up a small hill to a house that looks like a western-style cottage. Behind it is a chicken run and to the left is a garden growing vegetables and herbs, along with a greenhouse and a store shed. Already I feel as though I'm on a farm.

We make our way into the house and Mokuba shows me around the kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms – as though I've never seen the rooms of a house before. The last of the three bedrooms has a closed door, and Mokuba explains to me that Seto is inside, sleeping off whatever was so skilfully slipped into his coffee. I make a note to visit this room later, before he wakes up.

I am led back outside into the dome – which is large enough to fit a fair-sized shopping mall inside – to the right of the house. The place already annoys me, the ivy crawling up the walls and the rope swing attached to a tree nearby are too much like something Ryou would love. It surprises me that there are birds here, they really have thought of everything. I wonder briefly if they would survive in the desert heat if I were to release them, and then decide that they would not. They seem happy enough to be caged here.

"-feed the chickens every morning-" Mokuba is telling me, as I half listen to him and half concentrate on slipping off my shoes. I dislike wearing them, feeling the grass beneath my feet is much better. Suddenly the boy is handing me something, a radio and what looks like a credit card, presumably the key for the outer door. He looks worried, and I pay attention now that he is actually saying something important.

"This is the key, for emergencies. Hide it, Seto can get pretty serious when he wants something badly enough. There's a radio in case you need to get in touch with me. Seto should be waking up in an hour or so, so I should get going." The boy decides nervously. Clearly the thought of his brother catching him here does not appeal to him, he does not heal as well as I do.

"I shall walk you out," I purr, turning and sweeping him along with my arm. He allows himself to be steered back down the path, past the little streams and the pool (which I would dearly have loved to have seen him soaked to the skin in), back through the woods and almost up to the exit. The pilot would be waiting out there to take the child back to Cairo, so I set the key and radio down beside one of the trees and stop Mokuba, pressing him back against the rough bark. He doesn't struggle as I lean in to kiss him, running my fingers ravenously through his long hair and growling as I push him back. I've been waiting for this. He shudders beneath my harsh fingers, making those noises I have come to enjoy so much. It comes as a surprise to him when I turn us around, leaving him standing in front of me whilst I lean back against the tree, my eyes deliberately dark.

"Show me just how grateful to me you are, for _babysitting_ this troublesome brother of yours." I laugh wickedly, raising my hands to his shoulders and pressing him down to his knees. "Call it a goodbye kiss," I smirk, impressed that he does not fight me.

_Such_ a clever boy.

XxXxX

Once Mokuba has left, I take the radio and the key from where I set them down earlier.

"To work..." I murmur, slowly walking through the forest, following the curve of the dome. About a quarter of the way around the dome I come across something that will serve me nicely as a hiding place. A hollow in one of the old apple trees, a disused bird's nest inside. Lifting the nest out carefully I place the key and radio inside, along with the Ring. I will always be able to find this place, but once I replace the nest it is invisible to anyone else. The Ring will lead me back here whenever I need it to, a useful trinket when it needs to be.

Once the radio and keycard are hidden with my Ring I head back towards the house and make my way inside, deciding to take a look at sleeping beauty. Up the stairs I find the bedrooms again, two empty and the end one closed. What I seek is behind door number three.

...Well, isn't that unusual? Seto Kaiba looks rather attractive when he's unconscious. There is a message in that. He's laying on the bed, wearing clothes that almost manage to make him look normal. Someone has gone to the trouble of taking off his boots, although how they got through all those buckles I shall never know. He even has buckles on his arms, perhaps he wears them to make it harder to undress him – should anyone want to. It's strange to see him sleeping; with his eyes closed he looks innocent, which is not a word that is usually applied to him. I study his features, crouching down beside the bed silently, and decide that the peaceful look on his face is so different from his usual expression because the ever-present frown is gone. Between that and the sneer of contempt that regularly adorns his face, he does not have a great deal of facial expressions.

His hair is falling over his eyes, it would be in them if they were open. His skin is pale – although not as ghostly white as mine – and unblemished. He is an attractive creature, it's a shame he has a personality that makes most people want to throw him in front of a train. I am not excluded, I would happily kill him in his sleep right now if the conditions of my payment did not state that he must leave this place alive. I can always tie up any loose ends later – meaning I can sneak into his house and murder him when he gets home.

I am tempted to touch him, just because he is asleep and he would never know. That would annoy him, which pleases me. I reach out, employing all of my skills as a thief so as not to disturb his sleep, and press my fingertips to his forehead. His skin is cool and soft, somehow more human than I had expected. On impulse – since he has not stirred – I lean towards the bed and press my smirking lips against his, purely for the fact that he would hate to be kissed in his sleep. I wish he would wake up and know what I am doing, but his eyes are still closed and his breathing tells me he has not woken. Wake up, damn you! How am I supposed to annoy him when he stubbornly refuses to regain consciousness? I hate this man.

Kneeling on the floor now, I lean over him and press my palms against his shoulders, kissing him more forcefully this time. I'm pushing him down into the bed, forcing my tongue into his mouth and growling low in my throat.

"Wake up. Wake up!" I snarl as I break off, using my grip at his shoulders to shake him twice with my words. I wait a few impatient moments and then stand up, folding my arms and looking down at him. "Bastard." I mutter finally, turning away and leaving him to his dreams. He isn't even awake yet and already the frustration has begun. It will be interesting trying not to kill him.

TBC

I am writing! See? The next bit of Use the Man is also coming along, it hasn't been abandoned. I just hit a bit of a block.


End file.
